Clock Ticks
by Allie Salvatore
Summary: BLANGST! Blaine thinks the ticking is annoying. TRIGGER WARNING: non-graphic cutting, attempted suicide. Rated T for blood.
1. Clock Ticks

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: **Cutting (not graphic), blood, attempted suicide.

**Note:** Basically, my thoughts on Blaine feeling alone and like nothing matters anymore. Not even his life. Oh well. Also, I'm not sure if he dies at the end of it or not. Maybe someone found him. Maybe I'll have to write a companion piece to it.

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**Clock Ticks**

The clock is mocking him.

He knows it sounds stupid but he is sure that the constant ticking noises are made to irritate him, to make fun of the fact that time is passing. Time is passing and he's still there, stuck in high school. Still there, with Kurt rejecting his calls and not answering his messages. Still there, completely alone.

His only company is the clock, that keeps mocking him with its ticks and tocks, and a bright silver razor-blade, that reflects the light and sends random patterns over the wall. He takes a deep breath and it is more to stop himself from crying than a sign of resentment, really.

His hazel eyes are fixed on the floor, counting the drops of blood on the white marble. Every little drop, a part of himself that he let go. That he gave up.

He gave up a lot of things, to be quite honest, so he knows he's not the one to judge. He gave up his courage when he transferred to Dalton and gave up his safety when he transferred to McKinley. He gave up his virtues when he became popular. He gave up his own heart when he sent Kurt to New York.

He gave up himself so many years ago.

We watches the blood dripping on the white marble, in a mute rhythm that he can't help but compare to the mocking percussion of the clock. They are coordinated, playing together like a mortal symphony. The clock mocking, the blood dripping. They quite complete each other.

Blaine could make a really bad metaphor right now and compare the clock and blood to him and Kurt, but he doesn't do that. Partially because he can't quite grasp the exact reason of why this would be a metaphor in the first place, partially because his mind is starting to get hazy and his vision clouded.

He smiles. Hazy is a good feeling. He remembers it, back at his early high school days when he swallowed a bottle of pills and the haziness took over him. That time, Cooper arrived for an unexpected visit and found him on his bedroom floor. But not this time.

This time he was completely alone with his razor and the ticking clock, still mocking him for whatever reason that Blaine doesn't really understand, and it feels great. For a brief second he wonders if he shouldn't fight the fog that threatens to wash over him for good, but the thought leaves his mind as soon as it comes.

There is no one who could care, anyway.

His eyes close a few minutes later, razor falling to the floor into the drying pools of blood as he slips to the ground himself. His phone rings, but he can't bring himself to answer it. He just wants it to end.

So he lets himself slip into unconsciousness as the phone rings, Kurt's ID shining on the screen over a photo they took a few days before he moved. The clock keeps ticking. The timing perfect with the music coming out of his phone, as if it is laughing at the fact that Blaine can't answer it when Kurt finally calls.

Even now when he's dying, the clock is still mocking him.


	2. Tick-Beep-Tock

**A/N:** Okay, since some of you have subscribed to this story, here's the sequence... I'm working on a third part, if you'd like! Please, review!

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**Tick-Beep-Tock**

There's a clock ticking somewhere.

He knows this isn't his bedroom's clock because it doesn't mock him, but the sound is so annoying that it might as well be the same clock. Time is passing and all he can see is darkness; but he can hear and the fact that he can think the clock is annoying makes him aware of his surroundings.

There's a beeping noise somewhere too and a smell of disinfectant that he associates with bright lights and white walls. He has been to the hospital too many times to forget the way it is. Clean, white, suffocating. He opens his eyes slowly, tentatively; they are heavy but he's been there before.

He's not alone this time. A redhead nurse is by the bedside table placing a vase with yellow and red roses that make him want to cry. On his left, there's a boy.

Blaine smiles sadly at his tired face, meeting his green-blue eyes guiltily. The boy lowers his gaze and brushes his knuckles over the other's curls. He simply stares. Maybe because he doesn't know what to say or because he doesn't want to say anything at all, he keeps his mouth shut. The boy sighs, passes his fingers through his blonde hair and lets his head fall on his hands, exhausted.

The clock keeps ticking and he can't help but notice that the ticking dissonates in half a second with the beeping of the machine, with the beating of his own heart. It is driving him insane. But he counts it anyway. Tick-beep-tock.

Someone knocks on the door, but he's too busy counting to even bother looking. Sam stands up from the chair to open it and talks in a hushed voice to someone who sounds awfully like Rachel Berry. He doesn't need that now. Someone else speaks and they seem to convince Rachel to wait. Sam gets back into the room.

Except that it's not Sam's hand that finds its way around his fingers. It's not Sam who sits on the chair beside his bed. It's not Sam who touches his face and forces him to face left, despite the fact that he doesn't want to look at the newcomer because he knows he'll break down.

"Why?" is the only word Kurt's lips manage to form as soon as Blaine's gaze lands on him.

_Why did you do this to me? Why am I not enough? Why did you break your promise?_

Blaine closes his eyes, holding back tears. He doesn't want to answer. He doesn't know how to answer. He wants to assure Kurt that it was an accident, that he didn't really want to die, that he just cut a little too deep. But he can't. He can't lie or want to lie anymore.

_Why did you lie to me? Why didn't you ask for help?_

And the worst part is that Kurt is there. So understanding and full of love and blue eyes filled with unshed tears. He's there and it's so so heartbreaking to see the love of his life struggling to keep himself in one piece while both of them know that if one of them breaks, the other will break too.

_Why didn't you let me save you?_

He's so so tired of fighting. Of pretending to be ok. He doesn't want Kurt to save him. Not this time. Because there's nothing left of him to be saved, anyway, so what is the point of trying?

He is a boy who is falling apart, crumbling down under everyone's sight, drowning into the darkest depths of his disease.

But Kurt is clutching his hand and is not letting go even though Blaine asks him to. Kurt is there, holding him like he was a safety-jacket, because he knows that if he lets go he is going to collapse. He needs reassurance. He needs to know Blaine is alive, that he'll be ok.

But Blaine won't and it's only a matter of time before Kurt realizes that too.

There's a clock ticking somewhere and Blaine knows that every second is another heartbeat closer to the end.


End file.
